


Fun and Games

by buffaloballet



Category: Black Books (TV)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, there's strip poker and a lot of banter in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24838420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffaloballet/pseuds/buffaloballet
Summary: Bernard has been gambling again after promising Fran and Manny he wouldn't do it. As usual, he fucks things up, and it's up to Fran to come up with a proper punishment.
Relationships: Bernard Black/Fran Katzenjammer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Fun and Games

**Author's Note:**

> The idea came up to me after rewatching S03E04, and it was just too good to not write it. Also I love Bernard and Fran's dynamic and had been wanting to do something on them for quite a while. Reviews, constructive criticism and yadda yadda are much appreciated :)

It was about late night when the pixie haired woman took another sip of wine, cracking a large smile as she laid all her cards on the table. “Yeeeees! Full house, baby!” Fran giggled loudly, much to the dismay of her grumpy Irish friend. She then cocked an eyebrow and pointed to his trademark red shirt, making him frown even more intensely.

“Remind me again why I let you play this with me.” Bernard grumbled as he started unbuttoning it, glad he still had an undershirt beneath it.

“Well...” She started, rolling her eyes up as she was trying to list the reasons. “You were gambling again despite promising to me and Manny you wouldn’t do it…”

“It was just a silly bet with an old woman in the park! She smelled like she had been covered in pigeon shit and I would have never thought she was so good at playing chess using Mahjong pieces!”

“…and you bet the golden earrings that I’ve got on my fifteenth birthday from my deceased father.”

“Didn’t you use to complain that he never talked to you and smelled like cheap booze every night? And that he probably had an affair with the male gardener that planted lilies in your backyard?”

“You also pawned Manny’s _infantile regression_ medicine…”

“That man is a hypochondriac and you know that! Every day he comes up with another bullshit excuse just to avoid work. Last week he said a blister over another blister on his toe from running after a crook who stole a copy of _Forrest Gump_!”

“And now he’s in the hospital having a severe reaction and has to wear an _adult sized_ diaper.”

“You must be feeling so bad for the nurses that have to wipe his hairy arse, huh? Why don’t you do it yourself?” Bernard joked bitterly, sticking his tongue out in disdain.

Fran rolled her eyes, realizing it was pointless trying to win this argument. Instead, she just gave him a cold stare and used her head to point at the cards upon the table, indicating she wanted the game to continue. To reassure she was serious, she took both the bottle of wine and the pack of cigarettes away from Bernard, whose frown now turned into desperation as the once fully dressed bookseller was now stripped away from the only vices that made him put up with this whole ordeal.

“Now go press the card shuffler, _Bernard_.” She commanded in the tone that always made him bow his head down like an obedient puppy dog.

 _“Stupid, stupid game”_ , he thought to himself. _“You must be either really insane or drunk to play something where gambling for your clothes is involved.”_ He then took a last sip from his now empty cup and raised a hand to scratch his shoulder inside his undershirt.

As they bet and picked up cards, Bernard directed his gaze to Fran, whose usually expressive eyes couldn’t be blander at the moment. The woman knew how to play with her strengths, he had to commend her for that. His attention then turned to his hand, and he struggled remembering the name of the cards he had. Damn, he couldn’t even remember the names of the suits.

_“What was it again? Hearts, diamonds, black tree and black heart plucked upside down on a nail? Where did they come up with this shit again?”_

He noticed, however, that his cards formed a sequence: he had an Ace, a King, a Queen, a Joker and a 10. Bernard couldn’t remember what his hand was called, but he assumed it must have been good. Or maybe he just found it funny that the King of Hearts had a sword right through the back of his head.

“Bernard, I’m betting half of my matches. What about you?” Fran said as she put the amount on the centre of the table. 

“Hmm, let’s see…” He pressed his lips together as he thought about it. “Three quarters of my matches. And I want the bottle of wine back.”

“Okay…” She said, keeping the deadpan tone on her voice. “Show me what you’ve got, big boy.”

When the two friends put their cards on the table, Bernard noticed Fran only had random numbers on hers, and started laughing victoriously. He didn’t even think about which piece of clothing he would tell her to take off, the mere thought of having beating his oldest friend in her own game was enough for him at the moment.

“Funny, you’re probably the thirteenth man I’ve ever met that looked this cheered up when I was about to tell them to take their shirt off.” Bernard’s eyes widened.

“What? But I’ve won! Look, the suicide king, the queen that looks like my ma after the dog ate her vegetarian recipe book, the J-something guy and all this other shit!”

“Yes, that’s called a straight. But I have a flush, see it?” She pointed to the suit of the cards, which were all spades.

“So what? Who the hell came up with these rules, they’re so dumb!” Bernard slurred in protest, crossing his arms as he sank into the chair like a spoiled child after a tantrum. He kept that position for a while, but the uncomfortable feeling he was being watched by fierce eyes made his attention turn back to Fran, who looked very pleased to be in control of the situation and wasn’t afraid to let it show through her facial expression.

“Bernard.”

“Yes…?”

“You know…” She gave a cocky smile as she gestured with her free hand.

The pale face of the Irish man turned into a very bright shade of red at the demand, even though most of his inhibitions had been already lost to the wine they had been drinking. It wasn’t like Fran hadn’t ever seen him shirtless or even naked before, right? _“Oh damn, I’m not supposed to remember that.”_ He shut his eyes quickly, ashamed.

“F-fine!” He then turned his back to her as he struggled to take off his undershirt, and she kept watching him, amused. Bernard looked back, tense, only to catch her distracted staring at the line of his back. “NO PEEKING!” He barked, almost making her jump right at the spot.

“Sorry, sorry…” She smiled sheepishly and laid her arms on the table.

Bernard tried not to gasp as the cold wave hit his pale and hairless chest, dropping the piece of clothing onto the floor among with the rest. Now he sat there half naked while his friend was still fully clothed; he couldn’t even get her to take her earrings off. He crossed his arms again, holding them tight upon his chest for warmth and bowed his head trying to hide his abashed expression. Fran, on other hand, was very chill and laid back about it all. Of course, she had seen more shirtless men in her life than he ever saw himself in the mirror.

“You know, it’s quite nice to see you wearing something different from time to time.” She joked as she pressed the button of the card shuffler again.

“Oh yeah?” He said in a whispery voice. “Maybe I should work like this during a day full of students around the shop, especially school girls, I won’t look creepy or crazy at all.” As much as he tried sounding snarky, his tone was engulfed by a shyness he hadn’t felt since his primary school.  
“As if you didn’t look creepy or crazy in your normal attire.”

The bookseller mumbled something incomprehensible back as he picked up the cards. He knew he had already lost and there was no point in continuing, unless he wanted to embarrass himself even further. But just when he was about to brag, he noticed something peculiar: Fran was staring at him _very_ interested, discretely licking her lips like she would at the sight of something like chocolate cake. However, as soon as she realized he caught her on the act, she tried to disguise her actions by giving him a wry smile. But Bernard had caught up with it.

 _“Wow, she must haven’t got laid in a while to get all hot and bothered by the bag of tits that I am.”_ He thought, and then smiled to himself. _“What if I… No, Bernard. That’s the lowest you could ever go after puking in the hat of a soldier from the Buckingham Palace during the burial of Lady Di.”_

She then took another sip of wine and slowly bit her index finger in a way Bernard couldn’t avoid thinking it was very sensual. _“My god, it’s every cliché in the book.”_ He thought as he drew another card. As much as he wanted to deny, it was starting to turn him on as well.

“Are you betting?” She asked, maintaining the deadpan poker tone.

“I don’t know… Does it really matter? You’re going to pull another bullshit rule from your arse again and I’ll lose.”

“You can bet this.” She insisted, putting the bottle of wine on the table. Bernard raised his eyebrow, confused.

“You really want to win this game, don’t you?” The confidence in his voice was slowly coming back. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought this is just an excuse to get me naked.”

“Bernard, I’m offended. You know you screwed up, and I had to find a proper way to put you in the line again.” Fran was glad the tablecloth was able to hide her shaking legs. “Besides, you could lose some weight, all that wine is slowly giving you this nasty belly.”

“Really?” He tried his best to mask his hurt. “Get over it, Fran, you know that from thirty and forwards all straight men have bellies. The only ones that don’t are those insane divorcees who hit the gym, go vegan and are overcompensating for their lack of ability in bed.”

“As if you had much experience in that matter.” She watched Bernard opening his mouth to reply, but he couldn’t find the right words to back it up. So he bowed his head again in misery. “So, are you betting?”

“Oh, whatever.” He poured himself another glass of wine and threw the bottle clumsily at the centre of the table again. “Just end my suffering.”

The pair laid the cards on the table and Bernard went to rest his head upon an arm, his regular curmudgeon expression now looking beaten. It was then that Fran’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Bernard… You’ve won this round.”

“Oh, what’s that now? Feeling sorry for me? I don’t need any of it, you conniving…” He burped, intoxicated by the alcohol. “…manipulative snake...”

“No, I’m serious, look! You got a royal flush!”

The drunken Irish raised his head to see the perfect sequence in front of him. There he was again, the goddamn suicide king, just right in the middle of the other matching heart cards. Amused, he turned his gaze back to Fran, who nervously bit her lip, unsure of where to look. He then gave a large grin, which soon cracked into a very loud laugh.

“Yes, yes! I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep cheating like that, that you would fall from grace sooner enough!” He took a sip now straight from the bottle of wine, not taking the eyes away from her for one second.

Fran then got up and laid her hands on the table, not breaking the staring contest Bernard started with her. For a few minutes they stood there, speechless, their gaze so intense they could see each other’s reflections on their eyes.

“So…” She lowered her tone considerably. “What should I _remove_?”

Bernard inspected what Fran was wearing. A light brown leather jacket and a striped button shirt, accompanied by a jeans skirt and high heels. _She was always so fashionable, wasn’t she?_ With her clothes, her hair, her attitude and her drinking habit, even though he wouldn’t dare to admit it loudly. He also knew lightning didn’t strike twice, and that it was way too late to get her at the same level of clothing that he was, so he went with the safest option.

“S-something…” He gulped, trying to not breathe heavily. “Something from your waist down.” Fran gave a smirk and went to unfasten the buckles of her heels. “That you’re not wearing on your feet.”

“Smart boy.” She loved how Bernard’s eyes looked like the ones of a helpless puppy. The kind of puppy who always bit more than he could chew. She had been quite a tease since this all started, why stop now?

Fran started adjusting her skirt, making some odd movements around her pelvic area, leaving the bookseller both confused and mesmerized. It was when he noticed her knickers sliding down her legs, his pupils dilating at the sight. A warm sensation in his lower parts was now slowly building up, and he was glad the tablecloth was able to hide it from her.

“Okay, done.” She sat on the chair again, closing her legs wide shut. “You’re up for another one? I still got your pack of cigarettes to bet.”

“Hmm?” Bernard felt like he had been woken up from a dream, only to catch his friend gazing intensely at him. “Oh yeah, I want those.” He tried to act blunt to her stare as he reached an arm to press the button of the card shuffler again, only to be interrupted.

“I have a _proposition._ ”

“What?”

“Well, you got really lucky with this time, but you still could lose at any moment.”

“Afraid I could beat you?”

“No, but I’ve been having so much fun. So instead of losing the last piece of clothing you still have, you could compensate with _something_ else…” He gulped again, knowing full well where this was going.

“Yes…?”

“I need a clear answer, Bernard. No hesitations.”

“Yes.” He affirmed, his voice coming out deeper than he expected.

“Good. Now you may press the button.”

The next round began quickly. Fran placed her bets carefully as always, as if nothing happened moments before. She really was going for the kill. Bernard, however, couldn’t care less at this point; she could cheat through the whole match for what he knew. All he felt right now was a sharp anxiety accompanied by cold sweat and goosebumps. While he didn’t know if it had been a while for Fran, it sure had been for him. Second thoughts about ruining their friendship lurked in from time to time, but the lust driven scenario was getting the best out of them.

He recognized the set of cards on his hands, it was very similar to the one he had during the first round, when the game started. Back when he still was sober, yet very chill about it all. He also knew this was the worst combination in the game. When they placed the cards on the table, Fran grinned, pleased at the outcome.

“Three of a kind against a high card. Well, well, well.” Fran adjusted herself on the chair in a way she could cross her legs comfortably.

“F-Fran…”

“You have two choices now, Bernard. I hope you ponder on them wisely.” She laid an elbow on the table and lit a cigarette.

Bernard examined the situation, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn’t simply give up now, could he? He took a deep breath, struggling not to shake. Then, shyly raising the cloth over the table, he crawled underneath it, ignoring the amount of garbage accumulated around him as he reached over for her legs.

_Fran’s legs. Oh Jesus._

She still had them crossed, being the tease she was. He wasn’t sure on how to begin this, but he definitely wanted to make it worthwhile. Fran, still smoking her cigarette above the table, tried not to shiver as she felt the palms of his hands touching her knees and going down her lower legs. She felt his lips kissing her right leg and travelling around it, his hands still massaging the area in a mix of nervous and tender. Then, the tip of his nose started touching the gap were her knees met, and she responded the gesture by gradually separating them.

More kisses were distributed between her thighs, gradually reaching her central area. _“God, her smell is even more intoxicating than the wine”_ , Bernard thought as he was softly brushing his nose against her labia. She sighed when she felt his hot tongue running over it, as it was analysing which areas were the most sensitive based on her reactions. A few moments later her hands were all over his unruly hair, trying to guide him to the right spot. He then noticed the small hood covering her clit and gave a light suck on hit, causing her to finally spill a loud moan. He gave a satisfied smirk and proceeded with his ministrations.

Fran herself didn’t know what to marvel at more, the sensations she was feeling or the fact that it was _Bernard Black_ of all people doing that to her. Her grumpy, drunken and misanthropic best friend, who only did as he pleased and abided to no one. Well, maybe no one except herself. She always had her way with pushing the right buttons to make him do as she wanted, especially if it involved forgetting their previous one night stand a few new years ago. She knew she probably took things too far again with this game, and maybe it wasn’t the wisest choice to punish him for his wrong deeds. But right now, the only thing she cared for was her Irish friend exploring her inner areas.

“Oh, Bernard!” She gasped as she felt a finger entering her, moving slowly but swiftly. He had gotten greedy, but she didn’t complain, after all there were no specifications on what he could do to reach her demand. 

Fran closed her eyes as he kept a steady rhythm, impressed by his determination. She wondered if this was the result from the tension caused by the game, a deep desire he fought down or if he simply cared about her so much he wanted to make sure she was satisfied. But those things stopped mattering when she felt the heat building up inside her. She pressed her thighs together between his face and dug her nails deep into the back of his head, as she felt really close to climaxing. Bernard smiled when he heard a loud scream coming from her, accompanied by her shaky legs and a liquid flowing onto his hand. He took the finger to his mouth, savouring it, proud that it was the result of his efforts.

"Is this enough?" He asked in a low tone, raising his head over her legs and pulling the tablecloth away from his face to watch a panting Fran above him, still trying to gasp for air. She gazed at him, his face looking so lovely beneath her, while his fiery eyes claimed for more.

"I suppose so." She whispered breathily. "For this round, at least."

He gave her a playful slap on her thigh, and then went back under the table, crawling back to his seat. Fran offered him a cigarette, which he gladly took, but not before saying thanks with a tone on his voice that sounded like melted chocolate to her.

"So…" He looked down at himself. "Are you still up to playing, or can I go now?"

Fran blinked several times, coming back to her senses. She sure had enjoyed what happened to her minutes before, but Bernard still needed to learn his lesson. And Fran Katzenjammer wasn't the type to facilitate things that way. Not always at least. Okay, _maybe_ sometimes, but definitely not with him.

"Well, both of us are still clothed, aren't we? But I don't have that much to bet anymore." She bit her lower lip again and looked up, trying to think of something. "So maybe…" 

"Okay, let me guess.” He said before he inhaled some smoke. “Whoever wins chooses _what_ we’ll do next, and _how_ we’ll do it.”

Fran raised her eyebrow as she touched her cheek with a finger.

“You’re a dirty, dirty man, Bernard Black. I like how you think.” She smiled and went to shuffle the cards again.

This time, the two friends were very determined to win the game. Bernard struggled trying to remember the names of the poker hands, while Fran tried to find gaps under his watchful eye to slip cards she wasn’t supposed to have on hers. The bets with matches, wine and cigarettes became confessions of fantasies both had with each other but wouldn’t dream to tell under normal circumstances. When both finally had five cards on their hands, they shared an anxious look and stood up.

“Are you ready, Fran?”

“I was born ready.”

The cards were laid down upon the table in an almost violent manner as the pair shared a large smile. A smile that turned into surprised faces as they faced the results.

“Y-you got the suicide king and his court of minions…” Bernard stuttered, confused. “And I got the black heart plucked on a nail ones.”

“They’re called _spades_.” She replied, annoyed. “And oh god, yes I did.”

“You cheated, I know it!” He pointed his finger at her, his curmudgeon persona slowly coming back.

“God knows I tried, but you wouldn’t take your eyes off me!”

“Dammit!” The bookseller raised his arms, putting them behind his head. “What does that mean, then?”

“Well, it’s a tie.”

“So…”

“So…”

“We both get to choose _what_ we want to do and _how_ we want to do it?” Bernard said sheepishly, touching his index fingers together.

“Yes, I think so.” Fran started smiling again, realizing it wasn’t that bad at all. “I want a clean bed.”

“Manny’s room. But we’re going to use the walls too.”

“Sure, if you can handle it. No backdoors stuff.”

“Fair. No nipple sucking, I couldn’t last longer because you did that last time.”

“Hey, you weren’t supposed to remember that!”

“Oh, give me a break, Fran! You got me to play strip poker and now we’re discussing how we’re going to _fuck_ each other brains out.” She reddened at Bernard’s comment, despite all her experience in the area.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Fran gave a dry smile as she raised her shoulders, which turned into a smirk as she looked at Bernard head to toes. “Have you got any chocolate syrup…?”

“Oh no… No, no, no.”

“Come on, Bernard, it will be fun!”

“But I’m all sensitive in that area and I’ll feel icky!”

“Don’t you go all Mr. Clean on me now! If you’re so concerned about your hygiene all of a sudden, we might as well do it in the tub!”

“Well, that’s…” He was raising his voice and then stopped, realizing what it meant. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

Fran gave a playful look at her half naked friend, and then reached for her shirt to undo a couple of buttons, exposing her bra.

“So, are we doing this or not?” She laid a hand on her hip making a sensual pose, leaving Bernard's mouth hanging dry for a few moments.

“ _Hell yes_ we are.” He then pulled Fran close by the arm and gave her a passionate kiss. It wasn’t long till she kissed him back and surprised him by jumping and wrapping her legs around his waist. Bernard held her tight, now exploring her neck with his lips as she gave a breathy moan.

Fran struggled trying to take her jacket off, tossing it onto the pile of clothes left by Bernard. He was now going down her collarbone, exploring the gap she opened and sank his nose between her breasts, inhaling her scent. Then, in a burst of adrenaline, he pushed her onto the wall by the stairs and started to undo the rest of buttons on her shirt. Fran’s hands were everywhere from his messy hair to his back, clawing him, and she loved the loud scream he gave as she nibbled his ear. Once she wore only her bra and skirt, he tried carrying her up the stairs, only to feel his balance failing due to intoxication and having both falling down midway.

“My god, Fran, are you okay?” He asked, panting heavily.

“Yes...” She responded hypnotized by his gaze.

“I’m sorry, I’m still too drunk to carry us both upstairs…” His breath confirmed it, the scent of cheap wine leaving his mouth as he spoke way too close to hers.

“Who cares? Let’s do it here.” She pulled him closer and started kissing him again, hungry and sloppy, and he found no reason to argue.

Bernard clumsily tried reaching for her bra opening, whilst Fran, in a very skilful move, managed to remove his briefs by only using her feet, pulling them to his ankles. He looked at her, amazed.

“You gotta teach me how to do this someday.”

“It’s actually pretty easy. But enough chit chat for now, okay?” She started unbuttoning her skirt as Bernard’s shaky hands struggled to unhook her bra, letting out a sigh of joy once he finally managed to do so.

At last they were at the same level of clothing, or more like lack thereof. They took a few seconds to catch a breath and admire each other’s bodies, and Bernard felt his face blush as Fran’s eyes gazed down their legs, giving a sly smirk at what he had down there.

Bernard rested his hands on her knees again, spreading her legs open wide. He noticed she was still juicy from their previous endeavour earlier, and used two fingers to open her labia. Since she didn’t mention condoms or things of the sort, he assumed she was probably on the pill or whatever women did to avoid having babies. Just to be sure, he thought about asking when all of a sudden he heard her commanding tone again.

“What are you waiting for?” She hissed with a drunken voice, reaching for his cock and guiding him to her entrance. “Come on and _fuck me_ , Bernard Black.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, closing his eyes as he slowly sank into her, both letting go out loud moans as they connected. Fran pulled his face closer to hers again and kissed him deeply until they gasped for air, then pressed their foreheads against each other. Names and moans were exchanged as their rhythmic action increased. Bernard started cupping one of her breasts, circling the nipple, whilst Fran was busy clawing his lower back. They kept on doing it for a couple more minutes, having found a regular rhythm that pleased them both.

All of a sudden, Fran pushed Bernard to a sitting position, placing her hands on his shoulders as she rode him, while his became focused on guiding her hips, increasing their pace. Lowering his head down to her chest, he managed to catch a nipple between his lips, sucking and biting it lightly and making her throw her head back in pleasure. She held onto the back of his head, mussing up his hair again like she loved to.

“Fran…” He whispered in her ear, kissing its back. “Fran… I’m so c-close, ah…”

She then reached for one of his hands, putting it right in the middle of their linking to rub her clit. Bernard took it for granted, fiddling the area and tried to figure out the right amount of pressure that would trigger her release.

It wasn’t long till Fran’s whole body started to shudder, and she parted her lips for a loud moan. She pulled Bernard closer for another kiss, feeling his thrusts becoming more sloppy and desperate, the smell of wine and cigarettes coming from him prolonging her high.

“Oh Jesus… Fran!” He finally came, laying his head against the wall as his eyes rolled. He stood in that position for a few seconds, savouring his own orgasm, then slid out of her.

“I had forgotten you’re a screamer.” She joked, wrapping her arms around him.

“Shut up.”

***

“Bernard, I’m back!” Manny said as he unsuspectedly entered the shop. He wore an outfit similar to the time he accidentally swallowed his copy of the _Little Book of Calm_ , except this time he had a diaper underneath it. “Now I should hide these meds in a safe place…”

It was not until he entered the kitchen area that he noticed something was off. He tried to figure out what. The tablecloth was a mess, nothing out of the ordinary so far. There were tons of cards and an empty bottle of wine lying around it. Again, not very unusual. Then it struck him. Manny felt very anxious when he noticed a pile of mostly black clothes lying beside the table, and some feminine and more colourful clothes scattered around. Then he felt one foot stepping into some silky fabric, and he reached down to see what it was.

“AH!” He screamed in shock as he noticed the purple knickers below him, kicking them away. Reaching for the stairs, he heard a loud and very familiar snore coming from nearby. He turned his head only to have his face petrified by the sight in front of him. “AAAAAAH!”

He saw his two friends lying bare and cuddled, although their limbs were awkwardly spread in all sorts of directions. Fran was the first to open her eyes due to the noise he made, the hangover hitting her hard and slowing her thinking process for a while until she finally noticed Manny.

“AAAH!” She screamed back, and then felt drool dripping over her collarbone. Looking down she saw a sleeping Bernard laying his head on the area, his messy hair was everywhere and tickling her skin. “AAAAAAH!”

“WHAT, WHAT HAPPENED?” The dark haired man was woken up from his drunken slumber, only to face his oldest friend and now second time lover. “AAAH!”

“AAAH!” She screamed back at him.

“AAAH!” Manny joined them in their terror.

“AAAAAAAAH!” Bernard screamed back at Manny.

The trio kept screaming at each other for a few more minutes until their throats ran dry.

“Please tell me you didn’t use my bed.” Manny said in a rough voice, coughing.

“How dare you even suggest something so disgusting, you half man, half…” Bernard struggled to come up with a good insult due to the hangover and the intense embarrassment he felt at the moment. “ _Screaming llama!_ ”

“Screaming llama, really?” Manny said incredulously. “You have been more creative with your name calling.”

“Shut up and go cook our breakfast!” Bernard shouted, his curmudgeon side having come back fully energized. The long haired man did as he was told, his face all red as he walked out of the scene he just witnessed.

“I can’t believe you drooled all over me.” Fran whined as she got up to reach the clothes nearby their mess.

“Says the one who snores like a hippopotamus on life supply.” She raised her hand to give him a playful slap and Bernard put both of his arms in front of him for defense, but not without giving her a smirk. “So, are you going to convince me to forget it all later as always, or are we going to discuss this?”

“I don’t know.” She pressed her lips together in frustration, hooking up her bra again. “We should eat first.”

“I agree.” The tone in his voice turned sheepish once more as he put on his briefs. “Ouch, my head is going to explode at any minute.”

“Oh, Bernard, Fran, I forgot to mention.” Manny spoke loudly from the kitchen, trying to pretend everything was normal. “I bought some _chocolate syrup._ ”

It was then that Fran turned her eyes to the messy Irish man in front of her, the malicious smile on her face the widest and creepiest Bernard had ever seen on her.

“Oh, dear god.”


End file.
